Silent Love
by Fang323
Summary: While Chakotay struggles to keep his mind together, A saving grace walked through the doors of his bedroom. More words are spoken through silence than language.


Hey There, Fang here. Hello, J/C Fans! Welcome me into your fold with my first story of these two wonderful people. I hope you enjoy this story, as it was indeed a joy for me to write. I wrote this just after watching "Nemisis" for the 6th time, and this popped into my head. I suppose it can be used for any sort of Chakotay-mind-controlled episode, as there are quite a few, so please read it openly. Thank you.

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Janeway entered softly into the quiet darkness of her first officer's quarters. As she unfortunately expected, there was no sign from anywhere in the room. The bright light from the quite empty corridor shone around her staunch form, creating a silhouette on the floor. The automatic door slid shut upon the comforting light, leaving the Captain of the Starship Voyager in the pitch dark of Chakotay's rooms.

She almost whispered, but decided to keep quiet as she looked around for any sign of the man, maybe a small rustling of clothes or a move of a barely visible shadow. Nothing even remotely caught her eye.

With the press of a few buttons, she raised the lights seven percent, and with a ping of acknowledgement, the computer complied. Soon, Janeway could at least see in front of her feet again.

She first crept around the lounge area, tripping softly and searching for Chakotay imploringly. She knew her first officer and friend too well, though, and immediately went over to where his bed room was.

The doors swept open into another pitch dark room, the only sort of light was coming from the blur of stars that flew by the wide window like dazzling comets. Janeway gave herself a small wry grin when the cone of dim light from the door lit upon a bare foot on the color against the wall.

Without saying anything, Janeway tiptoed towards her friend, sitting on the carpet with his back to the wall, his arms crossed around his folded up knees. Again, the computer turned the lights up to visibility. Chakotay didn't look at his captain; his eyes were turned to his knees in front of him. He made no acknowledgement of her presence whatsoever. Janeway kneeled in front of him to his eye level, and stared at him intently. When he made no more to greet her, or even look at her, she cautiously placed one slim hand upon his knee.

His eyes slowly wavered up to her, unfocused and unseeing, but as the rest of his head lifted, they trained upon her quietly concerned face as if coming out of a trance. For a while he simply stared at her with searching, lost eyes, looking for an answer he wasn't sure he could ever understand. Eventually though, his face disappeared into his lap again, without so much as a sound.

Janeway crawled over to his side and sat close to him. Her shoulder brushed his bare one; he had decided a pajama shirt wasn't important enough to remember. Slowly, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cool hand, taking it in her own. She lifted it down, letting it rest in hers between their bodies. Chakotay stared at their joined hands, her smaller one enclosing his perfectly. His hand tightened on that support rope, a lifeline he would never be persuaded to let go of.

Kathryn studied Chakotay tenderly. She noted the dark circles around his eyes, a sure sign of insomnia. His normally groomed appearance had grown shabby, his hair no longer well cared for and his haggard face cast of deep shadows. His vivid, sagacious eyes had dimmed with lack of sleep and troubling thoughts and visions. Her heart tinged with sympathy for this man, her undeclared protector, her trusted friend.

Slowly, giving him time to pull his hand away from hers if he wished, Kathryn began to rub her thumb over the back of his hand, moving in tiny, soft circles. Chakotay unexpectedly leaned into her touch, his first indication of his desire for contact. She permitted a small smile as she stroked his hand, glad that even this much had made Chakotay admit his need for support.

For a while, she did not stop, content to let him understand through just that simple motion. She prayed thankfully when she felt at least a small bit of the strain-mounted tension leave Chakotay's body, feeling it slowly seep out of him from her contact with his shoulder. She smiled softly when his head dropped down onto her shoulder and he let out a shuddering breath. Kathryn rested her cheek upon his head. She could smell the scent she knew she would always associate with her first officer; a light coolness of a rainfall mixed with the woody, musky aroma of the warm sunlit earth, with a hint of a wood-burning fire flickering playfully along the edges of her senses. No replicator could even hope to reproduce this scent. It was pure Chakotay. It was nothing but him.

Chakotay's breathing hitched, and she brought her other arm around his torso, pulling him in gently toward her. He came willingly, finally allowing his uncertainty and doubt from the still recent encounter to show through his shields he had carefully erected around himself. Kathryn's hand found his head, caressing his hair as she was doing with his hand.

He spoke nothing, only accepted gratefully her ministrations with a heavy, tormented heart, pleading for any type of relief. His mental and psychological world had been turned upside down, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He wanted desperately any sort of consistency, anything at all, and now here was the one constant in his life by his side, giving him a chance to open himself up to her. She came. She stayed. That was all that mattered.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed on the floor of Chakotay's room. Not once did he show any signs of humiliation or ask her to leave him. She wouldn't have done it, either, for to admit one was in hidden suffering and ignore it was not her way. He had seen her with Kes, with Harry, and she always wore that same understanding look on her face if they talked. Now, he knew that if he looked up from Kathryn's shoulder, he would see that same small smile directed at him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, for he hated seeming weak in front of his captain, of all people, but he was convinced that there was no one else he trusted more with himself. And so, she stayed.

Eventually, though, Kathryn gripped his head gently and moved his head away. Chakotay hurt inside; she obviously had had enough of his trying to pull it together. She would let him be alone in this room, wrestling with the art of him he though he had buried away. Everything was temporary, apparently even her. He steeled himself for the darkness that would enclose him.

It never came. Kathryn draped her arms around him and guided him to his feet. Chakotay stared at her with confusion added to the turmoil in his eyes, but Kathryn just wrapped one arm around his back and laid her hand on his bare chest. With that, he let himself be led out of his darkened room and into the brightness of the corridor.

The hallway hummed with the lighting mechanisms, but other than that strangely calming white noise, it was as quiet as night. Walking through them half-dressed probably wasn't the smartest idea, but Kathryn's gentle sheparding and her warm hand on his chest kept him moving. At this point, he would do anything if it meant staying close to her.

He blinked his eyes a few times when he realized they were outside her own quarters. As the silver, cold doors slid open, the soft padding of his feet stopped just before the threshold.

Kathryn paused when she felt him stop, dropping her hand from his chest. She walked in and turned to face him, tightening her grip on his hand. He looked into her eyes for the first time clearly since she had walked into his quarters.

The depths of her eyes radiated warmth, safety, and calm, all the emotions that he could not find within himself. There was no pity, no belief of his assumed humiliation. Concern was evident, but also a request to listen and help which made the concern not so embarrassing. Looking at Kathryn now, Chakotay wanted to fall into her, to let himself be enfolded in her arms, to escape within the open nature of the woman he loved more than anyone on this ship. Chakotay glanced down from her eyes to their still joined hands, and followed her in with heavy footsteps.

Kathryn's room was lit to a moderate degree, sending a golden glow upon the walls and furniture. She led him to the sofa and sat him down, patting his hand and laying a smooth touch on his arm before leaving into the other room.

Immediately after her presence has left, the images came back. The face-down dead. The desecrated bodies. The little girl. The training program. He heard the quiet beeps of the computer replicator, but it was soon overshadowed by the voices in his head.

Townspeople. Crying. Gunshots. Blood. Death screams blood darkness leaves noise death noise noise noise so much noise so much death blood death scream cry death-

A light shake on his shoulder jerked him back into awareness. He had his head cradled in his hands, trying to stop his nervous trembling.

He felt his hands pulled away from his face and he was met with the angelic face of Kathryn. Opening his still-shaking hands, she placed a steaming silver cup of something hot in them and closed them about it. Slowly, he drank from it, but even though he could taste something sweet in it he couldn't place what it was. She sat in front of him, never leaving him, until he had finished the entire thing.

Kathryn took the cup away, setting it on the end table and pulled him to his feet once again. His eyes were feeling heavy…no, he wouldn't allow himself to be tired. The dreams would come, dreams that were so deep inside himself that not even his spirit guardian could drive them away. No, He would not sleep. He could not permit himself to sleep. But there was Kathryn leading him into her bedroom, the bedroom that smelled like her, felt like her. But now he was lying down on that soft bed like a child, and she was pulling the covers over him and he was so tired…

Her touch was gone, and he vaguely wondered if she had left him to sleep on his own, to let the nightmares and torments take him again, make him question his reality and himself .He felt his shivering again begin at the tips of his fingers.

The bed dipped on the other side, and there was Kathryn, sweet Kathryn next to him. He reached out for her voluntarily into her arms, and she held him tightly. He didn't cry, he didn't make a sound. He breathed in her warmth and sleep began to take him. He no longer cared what he saw, but he felt everything.

A quiet brush of a hand on his cheek. A finger tracing the intricate tattoo at his temple. A smooth forehead meeting his own.

Soft lips tenderly meeting his.

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AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

I believe that all the subtext for a romance between these two is there in the original episodes. Actually, I was reading the wonderful actors Kate Mulgrew and Robert Beltran's reviews of the episode "Resolutions" and even they both wanted a romance between the lovely captain and her extremely, may I say, dashing first officer. I think that's a pretty good 'Go ahead' to us writers, don't you think?

I really like the theme of silence, and I hope to do more of it. This was my first attempt, so I hope to improve upon the technique, and do this series more justice than I have at the moment.

I appreciate reviews, as I take my writing quite seriously. Thank you for reading.

-Fang


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